BBC: Wien Staatsoper revival of Mozart's Don Giovanni (de Simone) - posh elegance led by saturnine d'Arcangelo, unstylishly conducted - 22.5.09

As somewhat featured highlight of Vienna State Opera’s 2009-2010 season came this revival of the Roberto De Simone production of Don Giovanni - familiar to some off dvd with Carlo Alvarez, d’Arcangelo, and Riccardo Muti. It is reckoned quite a stylized affair, as some of De Simone’s productions are – the costuming drawing slightly confusingly from different periods. Muti on his La Scala dvd of the classic Giorgio Strehler production goes the stretch in making clear definition of his interpretation of Don Giovanni – very dark, somewhat along lines of early 1950’s Fritz Reiner at the Met – whereas the studio-bound Vienna Philharmonic recording from him two years later finds things inflexible, excessively strained to its own detriment. Such has discouraged me from seeking out the newer dvd. I only trust d’Arcangelo to doe a little better as Leporello than he did for Daniel Harding at Salzburg, opposite Thomas Hampson.

This revival was conducted by young, upwardly mobile Greek maestro Constantinos Carydis; one most of all had to rely upon the singing to pick up any profile to this Don Giovanni, since from Carydis it mostly lacked any. Ildebrando d’Arcangelo proved making the move from servant to master one he had handled with tremendous ease. He proved somewhat a saturnine, otherworldly presence as the Don, of fully convincing aristocratic bearing, while also proving flexible at interaction with his Leporello. There was no doubt however his letting Leporello, and then especially the Masetto know who is boss, until, before a bewildered sounding d’Arcangelo, the statue at dinner has the tables turned on him. This proved quite an exciting interpretation, one in picking up in thoroughly three-dimensional perspective the part’s demonic qualities - making such essential key in getting just about everything else therein.

d’Arcangelo’s voice is not very large, but there is enough buzz behind quite rapid vibrato therein with which he helps make it sound bigger; the Don causes him no apparent strain. His nobility, even at times grandiosity, and solicitousness in approaching women proved winning, while making overt the Don’s epicurean zeal for life and also slight, brusque impatience for anything that might stand in his way. d’Arcangelo was able to sound baritonal enough on top for recitative and other lighter passages, but it could also always be heard what reserves down deep he had upon which to draw at any time. This was true, even with the fine ease and legato with which he sang ‘Deh vieni’, the serenade in Act Two. We were not quite in the presence of another Siepi or Pinza here; it is hard to imagine how the Don could today be much better sung or acted than this.

Even ever slightly better was the by now definitive Leporello of Rene Pape. Pape has grown a little in the part, his voice slightly darker, than when seen at the Met in the new Marthe Keller production five years earlier as Leporello. All mix of humor, irony, sarcasm, envy of the Don, dismay, occasionally open disgust, fatigue moreover with the Don got put on fine, but never overstated display here. Pape proved a Leporello worthy of a Don, such as that of d’Arcangelo. d’Arcangelo clearly acknowledged it so. Pape’s posing as the Don befuddled before Donna Elvira proved example of a Leporello close to as conspiratorial enough with the Don as just being his servant and very funny. ‘Madamina’, with fine legato, arch to its line for its second half, had some of the best pointing of its text I have ever heard, all as though unaware - very funny.

There was never the feeling one has to broadly sell the humor of Leporello, and this was no more clearly felt than during the cemetery scene, not thoroughly all buffo elements to it discarded, but the fear, nervousness Leporello feels before the marble statue was seriously felt to extent, one could also pick up slight clue of uncertainty from d’Arcangelo as well. Neither d’Arcangelo nor Pape was better than the other at trying to disguise his voice as the other early on in Act Two, but from both it was enough that it was plausible how it could have fooled the other characters onstage, while still letting us in on who it always really was up there. Pape’s Italian diction, patter with it was first-rate and nuance thereof. The other bass or bass-baritone who in the past twenty years who has so smoothly made the transition from being Leporello to Don has been someone most certainly underrated at it – Feruccio Furlanetto. When he recorded it, he proved the Don practically to be a better part for him than the servant, and while opposite the slightly too heavy Leporello of John Tomlinson. These two make practically as fine a team as can be heard anywhere on disc, and so could d’Arcangelo and Pape.

Rene Pape is next, if he has not yet made the transition already. Nearly capping such a delightful Leporello was the beginning of the supper scene. Pape let most diction and even for a few notes intonation go completely south on him to depict servant gorging his face and hardly able to restrain himself of, unmarked, humming along the tune with the winds as he went about it. Even with Carydis rushing, lightly clipping the tune of ‘Non piu andrai’ in the winds onstage, Pape hilariously got the message across. It was not the only moment that Pape made it clear how much Leporello envies his master, albeit purposefully subtler at doing so earlier.

Ricarda Merbeth made noble lady of Donna Anna, grievous tragedy of her loss felt, with good line, warm timbre, but also a degree of tremolo that made both break and top unstable. She capably made for herself that Carydis’s slightly ruthless, definitely glib pushing ahead of tempo during opening duet with Ottavio, accompanied recitative and vengeance aria not much stand in her way. She eventually managed during scena with Ottavio and following vengeance aria to sally forth several solidly firm acuti.

One hopes that Merbeth can lighten somewhat her use of her voice, certainly a fine instrument, approach to music as well that she need not push either so dark or even hard at times - as she seems wont nowadays. Much of ‘Non mi dir’, with lovely floated B-Flat right before start of the aria also went quite well, but Carydis set little contrast of tempo between opening Larghetto and Allegretto, both of which sounded quasi Andante from opposite directions; unfortunately then some strain, hooty tone set in for the closing section of the aria. Phrasing during the earlier Act 2 sextet however was particularly lovely, following misshapen frame from trumpets on their brief turn into D Major.

Michael Schade made an excessively obsequious, even at times retiring Don Ottavio. Expectation of such an Ottavio putting forth any real kind of defiance or vindictiveness to anybody probably has to be reckoned to go for naught. Voice and persona are still pleasing enough, though for even just for Mozart’s lyricism, a little more firmness of line should enhance matters. Carydis’s streamlining of ‘Il mio tesoro’ was insensitive to Schade and Mozart’s music alike, leaving tenor really a little too high and dry toward being able to make smooth enough re-transition to reprise of the aria’s opening.

Possibly even a better match for the Ottavio of Michael Schade than the more sturm und drang Merbeth was the somewhat ingénue Elvira of Soile Isokoski. Hints of t Maria Stader interpretation for Ferenc Fricsay, on his fifty year old studio recording of the piece definitely came to mind. Carydis played accompaniment to her part, to practically reassure we were seldom going to get any strong accents for anything. Much of the lovely tone, phrasing, sympathy for what she was singing was there, much as it would be with a Stader or even Janowitz (had she ever sung this), but something of the fiery lady of Burgos went missing – with memories of Antonacci playing Elvira in this production probably still fresh. She, to be on the safe side, played verbal exchange with the Don for comic effect, but fortunately again without overstating it, as it is best to side – taking into account Elvira’s confronting of the Don in front of Zerlina seconds after ‘La ci darem’ – with Elvira’s intent as really being instead quite serious.

Isokoski certainly tried singing ‘In quail eccessi’ (one accompanied recitative better than aria to follow it), but Carydis, to affect being ‘period’ tended to heavily clip the rests between her lines. Lack of profile was such that Isokoski, though very fluent with the runs through ‘Mi tradi’, lightly lost intonation several times. Pair of brief trios anticipating statue’s arrival in the dinner scene also got streamlined from the podium, but Isokoski still managed somehow to convincingly eke out sympathy for the character, and for her brief lines in the epilogue as well. She managed to start off strongly for ‘Ah che lo dice mai’ during first encounter we see between her and Don Giovanni.

Michaela Selinger was the lovely, somewhat dark-toned Zerlina. Incipient tone of worry in her voice in meeting up with the Don and then with Masetto a couple of times afterwards certainly felt real instead of cloying. Apart from being a little under the note at the break for the latter, her singing of both ‘Batti’, batti’ and ‘Vedrai carino’ was fine, showing doting care for her Masetto, played by Boaz Daniel very convincingly as naïve bumpkin but also as with eyes wide awake as to what the Don’s shenanigans are. The beating of Masetto in Act Two sounded especially light, as though Masetto just barely getting slapped around. It is definitely a more violent moment than it sounded here.

Boaz Daniel, in place of unwelcome caricature as Masetto, vocally made handsome profile of the part, as still worthy suitor to Zerlina. The half swallowing up of the cello obbligato into blend of overall orchestral texture during ‘Batti, batti’ showed further insensitivity, inexperience on the part of Mr. Carydis, but Selinger somehow still remained at ease in caressing, even at times almost floating her lines through it and with gently incisive pointing to lightly bring the the aria to a close. Eric Halfvarson convincingly put human face, sense of outrage on his Commendatore for opening scene, but had trouble toward making any convincing menace of the statue, trying to avoid a too persistent wobble. Carydis’s streamlining of, rushing through the final scene of opera proper (before epilogue) undercut the terror that should definitely be felt here. Fortepiano continuo, with all wit, charm, grace, insinuation he could put into playing and ornamenting the part was absolutely first-rate; Vienna State Opera chorus was also fine.

Getting past adequately shaped overture and also accompaniment of less complex numbers in the opera itself, the Vienna State Opera orchestra, while smooth in execution, maintaining line and balances, offered too often faceless, even weightless playing, especially in terms of support for the singers on stage. Constantinos Carydis, though he clearly has some ear for Mozart, became here too prude in observing ‘period’ or ‘quasi-period’ notions (as this was still played on modern instruments) while not nearly observant enough of form and proportions to such as even the quartet, ‘Non ti fidar’ in Act One (almost entirely denied its character and how it develops), not to mention sextet in Act Two, with which he was more careful – still not good enough – not for the Vienna State Opera. Finale to Act One, especially its second part, from refrian of ‘liberta’s’ through stormy end to it just sailed glibly by – with internal contrasts to first part of the extended finale missed as well.

Should grandeur be considered out-of-date, approaching Mozart’s Don Giovanni, then even while quasi-period we are no longer ‘period’ enough anymore. D’Arcangelo, even with Rene Pape the Leporello, stood out in this cast as perhaps best for what the podium was missing. It may be a darker interpretation of the Don than to which we are accustomed nowadays, but far better this than the hyper-kinetic light baritone who often in a bad production instead gets the lead. Carydis yielded often well to d’Arcangelo, except for too rushed Champagne Aria; even so, something failed to register here. Take it from someone who likes very much, proudly owns already mentioned Erato Barenboim recording of this, with equally powerful, convincing pair of master and servant it offers.

LOC 2009-2010: Verdi's Ernani - of definitely routiniere, concert-in-costume class - deserving of better

Lyric Opera, in addition to Kat’a Kabanova, for most interesting part of their repertoire last season, gave this relatively routine, safe revival of Verdi’s Ernani. In being so safe, it partly missed what Ernani is about, except to present it as period or museum piece.

Lack of contrast between more forceful accents and cantilena during the prelude set the tone just almost too well. Here was leadership slick and efficient, content to just supportively accompany the singers, that did not miss so much in connecting line in Verdi’s music, but what might be any driving passion behind it. In fact, in a derivative sense, it much resembled James Levine’s conducting of Ernani from over twenty-five years ago (as seen on dvd with Leona Mitchell and Pavarotti), but even Levine put more fire into this than has Renato Palumbo. It all still fit within context of an entirely concert in costume Ernani, with generic abstract sets and painstakingly historically accurate costuming – in Samaritani production (not the one Lyric used here) the Met employed.

Salvarote Licitra made an eager bandit Ernani, delivering opening aria, “Come rugiada al cespite” with fine curve and swagger to the line, if some strain on top. He, together with Sondra Radvanovsky, the Elivra, coasted his way through the extended concertato finale to Act One, not wanting to risk more than minimal input of passion into what he was singing, but with still having to bench press high A’s for closing portion of it. The character of Ernani got denied being any challenge to situation at hand. Forza was similarly lacking for Act Two terzetto with Elvira and Silva and confrontation of Elvira right afterwards – contrast for duettino with Elivra ‘Ah! morir” to follow thoroughly insufficient; once into it, Licitra invested the passage with more feeling than had been the norm thus far. The final scene elicited good lyrical shape for easier lines, but caution to avoid excessive strain again ruled the day for what proved too timid a bandit by half.

Sondra Radvanovsky, albeit with uneven placement of breath, elicited fine sense of the cantilena line as Elvira, including for “Ernani, involami”, a little better diction than Leona Mitchell as Elvira as well, but minimal passion. Whereas the ardor for Ernani was there, the enterprising, risk-taking nature of this Verdi heroine got compromised by retiring and flaccid accents, no less than during her reply to Carlo’s first advances to her during Act One, and on brief refrain replacement of cabaletta for Elvira (showing early sign of fatigue by Verdi to write cabalettas when there are available, such as this, better options) right before ‘O sommo Carlo’ during Act Three.

Giacomo Prestia made for a retiring Silva, who had it only so far for the lyrical pages of this, but for instance on ‘No, vendetta’ to Elivra and Ernani, had he tried giving it more voice or vitality, it could have gone hoarse. Palumbo gave Prestia assistance in making waltz step out of Ernani’s oath with which Silva reminds him several times during Act Four – solemn enough in what it then requires of Ernani, one would think. Phillip Gossett reports that in Milan in 1982 there had been rumor that Ghiaurov got spared singing Silva’s cabaletta in Act One for no longer quite having the voice for it. Prestia, less stable than 1982 Ghiaurov, attempted singing it nevertheless. Ghiaurov, especially by today’s standards was still capable of it in 1982. Paul Corona, Kathryn Leemhuis and Rene Barbera ideally acquitted themselves for their three supporting roles.

Best of all in this cast was Boaz Daniel as the king, Carlo. Carlo’s first wooing of Elvira, outrage of whom made flaccid by La Rad, combined lyricism and heft very well. Sense of being goaded, treated duplicitously by Silva (‘Lo vedremo di ribelli’) had good force, feel of menace. Palumbo undercut Daniel for ‘Lo vedremo, veglio audace’ by breezily streamlining its accompaniment, but Daniel held his own with fine legato and strong marking of text especially toward cadences, with Prestia in obbligato as Silva to Carlo fitting in well with Silva in so obsequious mode as occurs here. “Vieni, meco, sol di rose” alone for Boaz Daniel came off a bit heavy, but with Palumbo cutting its repeat and choral interlude before vis-à-vis the libretto being cut illogically creates an imbalance. Silva’s loyalists forever miss what is due them musically out of choral text that the king’s retinue gets privileged to have alone. As proper both Levine and Palumbo affect being, what could have ever authorized this cut?

Boaz Daniel combined well sense of destiny with scheming tone for start to Act Three, and dignified both ‘Oh de verd’anni miei’ and ‘O sommo Carlo’ with secure line and release with even, oaken timbre. However, accompaniment for the latter again got streamlined by Palumbo to extent it might make one surmise that Verdi missed writing in extra accents, tenuti for this music, this moment especially, to receive the gravitas it needs. Boaz Daniel, for the big Verdi baritone parts, does not have quite the full range of color and expression, but has good size of voice, the secure technique and intelligent musical and dramatic sense to pull it off. Anticipation of hearing Daniel as Carlo made listening in worth it, if little else. He shows considerable readiness for all but several or so biggest Verdi roles for baritone - even potentially as a fine Iago in Verdi’s Otello.

Palumbo paralleled Levine well in limning a beautifully played bass clarinet solo for start to Act Three just fine, but so much of this Ernani was flaccid, lacking in necessary vitality, bloodless. Choral preparation by Donald Nally proved fine, but at times undercut by stiff accenting and even on occasion clipping from the podium. The four beats marked for the central Congiura of Act Three got cut down to very nearly three, denying opening to it more than anything else a feeling of mystery. Self-conscious attention to stylistic genre of this music typified Palumbo’s efforts to point things steered clear of invoking any Risorgimento fire here – note streamlining of the Trovatore accents of Elvira and Ernani’s unison refrain response to Carlo during Act One. Just as fatally, this Ernani emerged free of any ideas at all of his own as to how it should go.

I can not fail to again find inclusion of Silva’s Act One cabaletta insipid, its dragging of the dramatic argument at hand, and not fitting at all well anything else in its having been copied and pasted over by a basso, Marini. He wanted it not only for 1842 Barcelona revival of Verdi’s first opera Oberto, but for their Ernani as well two years later. For performances, copies of Ernani that predate the critical edition that very much mostly Philip Gossett and others helped painstakingly prepare, there are presumably only orchestral parts, with winds, brass, percussion added in for the Ricordi edition (with what errors it may have therein) with preceding cadence for Silva’s cabaletta included and nothing for the parallel segue into the much more forceful and dramatically cogent recitative to instead immediately follow it (starting with ‘Uscite!’).

Gossett then made the highly questionable claim that Riccardo Muti, in excising the cabaletta (‘Infin che un brando vindice’), used the Ricordi-included cadence for the cabaletta, yet without the cabaletta. Could have Muti realized his mistake, intervened with who did the sound for filming the new Ronconi production that marked Muti’s debut at La Scala and EMI Classics (that picked this up live) as well to cut the revised cadence on dominant chord for F Minor (C Major) and cut and paste in its place instead the original that clearly ends on tonic chord in F Minor? I doubt it.

Whatever the case, the heckling of Muti while the music played on, ‘Il cabaletta, filologo!, Gossett reported, got picked up on neither dvd nor compact disc. What did get recorded then had to have been during a subsequent performance to the opening, so I still find it doubtful that there may have been any changes made for subsequent performances. If not, most likely it is not, then Gossett has perhaps hoped that in reckoning that Muti used the Ricordi edition – it likely not being possible to have done differently at the time – we might have overlooked, for passage of two measures, on what chord Muti had things land – and necessary adjustment to half a measure of continuing sixteenths in violins leading into it.

Where Muti slipped, we all can agree with Gossett, is in having publicly for La Corriere della Sera perhaps made excessive claim of having achieved philological purity in addressing all this. Where Gossett also may slip is in revealing a patronizing attitude, harmonizing well with Milano loggionisti, in taking a very patronizing attitude toward Luca Ronconi’s production (with admittedly expensive sets by Ezio Frigerio). It is absolutely brilliant, even with its mixture of costuming styles from different periods of history. The philosophical import of it, the intensity and vitality it draws out of its cast, especially from Domingo and Bruson, but also from Freni, Ghiaurov and supporting cast is all riveting.

No physical perils face any of the cast, of which a few people including Gossett have made excessive emphasis, to parallel an Andrei Serban production of Lucia di Lammermoor to have surfaced once, or at least equally bad or worse the Zambello production of also Lucia the Met back in 1993 had to immediately mothball. The video quality, in being up to date or not, may not be the most brilliant of any dvd’s I own, but I must even almost shamelessly reveal my own bias to report here that it is the most brilliant staging of a Verdi opera I have probably seen yet in any medium. Apart from Il Trittico perhaps, there is no Ronconi production to be preferred over this.

Dr. Philip Gossett (University of Chicago) was the excellent guest for one intermission, tacitly helping make Lyric a referendum on how bad it is for the Meg and Ira show to have replaced what we could still honestly call the Met intermission features. He got close to addressing – with me all ears – the Silva cabaletta philological issue at hand, but shied away from it, content with providing listeners the Saturday Ernani was on with other very fine musical and historical insights. Gossett is honest and thorough in citing the cabaletta’s inclusion in Ricordi without it existing in any of the other extant editions of the opera. I will make further effort to look into the controversy even beyond how he has addressed it in his recent, otherwise never to be doubted book Divas and Scholars.

Let us not forget the lifelong, selfless service Dr. Gossett has provided us in terms of helping revive unjustly neglected Rossini operas, musical preparation, and most of all very fine, extensive editing work that we could have at least ninety-nine percent of the time the best editions possible of these and of so much else. We all owe Gossett a debt we may never be able to pay for the love he has shown the art and all of us so interested in it. Any comment I may have made amiss, I will return here to edit in due time.

Best singing heard on this broadcast belonged to Giulietta Simionato, who other than perhaps very early on had no part in Ernani, but nobody has any doubt her fully deserving the loving retrospective Lyric provided during first intermission feature for Ernani. There is nobody quite worthy to replace her today, for the beautiful voice she possessed, her love for the art, for then only after that and her love for her colleagues, her love for taking good care of her voice, not to mention, remembered by others, sense of humor. I can only stand to envy anyone who might have known her in person at any time, but her recorded legacy lives on.

ROH Bychkov Lohengrin - a magically led sense of wonder

Elijah Moshinsky’s production of Lohengrin for Royal Opera received notable revival this past spring, especially as conducted by Semyon Bychkov. This production has been reckoned a few times a bit stilted or two-dimensional, yet with occasionally good stage imagery for particular scenes.

Bychkov and Johan Botha as the swan knight, plus three other cast members of this recorded Lohengrin absolutely complete in Koln last year. Adrienne Pieczonka, the Elsa in Koln, will sing it for Houston Grand Opera this fall. She was replaced here by a new Italian lyric soprano by the name of Edith Haller.

Johan Botha was here a Lohengrin one hoped might possibly be a great interpreter of this part. It was just only with having such very high expectations that perhaps he disappointed us. Legato, musical sensitivity at his command, fine understanding of the part sounded all intact - evidently still there. He conveyed Lohengrin's selfless love for Elsa very convincingly.

Lohengrin's first entrance, without exaggerating, was sung at the level of a true piano, if perhaps less transfixing than might be perfectly ideal; we have not lately quite had any Sandor Konya in our midst; such is hard to come by anymore. Preparation by Bychkov orchestrally was the best heard for any moment in this thus far.

One anticipated with Botha some heroic ring to emanate following his entrance, but some clipping of rhythms and slight coasting through first ever heard warnings to Elsa ensued instead. In concerted ensemble leading up to duel with Telramund and declamation immediately following it, Botha commanded the line and revealed the metal he still has at his behest. Gentle entreaty to Elsa at “Der furchterliches Weib” in Act Two was endearing. Several soggy attacks and placing back however had Botha retreating from several challenges ensuing late in Act Two – for Elsa to possibly have had some basis for doubt after all.

Botha’s expressive bel canto in the bridal chamber scene and Grail narrative were highly convincing. He though felt he had to prove slightly more on a couple of (tubular produced) high A’s in passage toward end of scene with Elsa than necessary - in making final heartfelt pleas to Elsa to give her fateful question a rest. Proof however of a real artist here came with the great sadness, sense of loss with which Botha infused “Weh! Nun ist all unser Gluck dahin” and grace with which to articulate his decision to concede to Elsa - while before the King. “Zu lohnen” had fully appropriate solemnity - with the import of what “In fernem Land” reveals to us. With caressed tone, sense of wonder, just about all to remain came off scintillatingly. This was very certainly a swan knight made of flesh and blood - with full throttled, passionate “O Elsa! Nur eine Jahr” to make mention of for considerable time to come.

Edith Haller is an Elsa, not far from along lines of perhaps Eleanor Steber, of warm, lovely voice, good legato, but guarded reserve, coolness in reacting to all on Elsa's plate. Here was an Elsa at times not afraid to show some vulnerability, such as right after Lohengrin's Second Act entrance. There is argument too for Elsa from the get-go being slightly less the completely enraptured heroine than for instance Senta or Elisabeth. One still might seek more rapture with "Einsam in truben Tagen” than what some swallowed consonants and low notes betrayed instead. Intonation was problematic only with occasionally pushing the voice at the break and above.

A tentatively phrased “Euch luften” in Act Two similarly lacked something. Haller seemed slow to engage completely with Petra Lang’s Ortrud after they meet, but once re-entering to conclude their encounter, rose well to the challenge of singing alongside Lang, histrionically appoaching being a great Ortrud. Haller then acted very well the bridal chamber scene, subtly hinting at its agitation from its outset, but also eschewing development of excessive hysteria, as has been mistake of several other excessively lyric Elsa’s out there.

Falk Struckmann sounded still vocally intact toward presenting a definitive Telramund. His going through the paces at several venues as Wotan has taken its toll. The voice sounds hollowed out and slightly rough at the edges; steadier voice emerged here than necessarily expected. Struckmann benefited much from wonderful support Bychkov provided him almost the entire way through. One’s attention, listening to him, was on the words of Telramund, thus strongly conveying all the villain’s bitterness, guile, and malice. Vocally he is in better shape eleven years ago under Barenboim on disc, but he certainly held out promise that he has more years left to help occupy the world’s opera stages, perhaps heretofore as a fine Alberich. Such has been the case before with Theo Adam. Struckmann is still a welcome artist - recalling his fine Met Wozzeck, then Wanderer for La Scala during the late 1990’s.

Petra Lang (Ortrud) proved Struckmann’s wonderful partner in crime. One could not ask for an Ortrud more subtly acted than encountered here - quite a challenge to both the Telramund and Elsa on stage, especially so. “Entweihte Gotter” became too pushed, but intonation still remained mostly sound; thrill of her giving it her all though was most convincing.

Expectations have become too low toward hoping to praise two current singers as the two baddies in this. Who else has there been around to raise them lately? Ortrud to Lang is not so consciously evil as much as just out to defend what she observes being seized, encroached upon by medieval Christendom to which she and her world still hold exclusive rights. Lang gave big moment for Ortrud helping conclude Act Three practically enough to raise all the hair on one’s spine. Not quite Margarethe Klose perhaps or even Astrid Varnay at peak of her powers, but still something. Petra Lang has yet to sound more distinctive than how she did for this.

Kwangchul Youn was the warm toned Heinrich, authoritative in terms of always full cognizance of dramatic situation, if not a vocally formidable presence as such. He can not quite fade memories of Greindl or Frick at their formidable best, but with firm line and beautifully molded legato, he conveyed full concern for and well-husbanded authority over his fellow Brabantians. His lieder like sensitivity for text, gentle manner - recalling his palpable reaction to Lohengrin’s lowered countenance in making his final entrance - makes Youn still welcome for any Wagner.

Boaz Daniel – in place of Eike Wilm Schulte in Koln, was fine as the King’s Herald, including in marshaling forces for excitingly led choral work to follow his statements. It was only around middle C that one sensed mild uncertainty – just when pressing down near end of range in question.

As is still quite common, the second half of “In fernem Land” was cut, as also was minute for Lohengrin starting with “O, Elsa! Was hast du mir angethan?” and ensemble to follow. Bychkov conveyed sense of such passages being essential by how he conducted what then little remained - as opposed to leaving so much sounding clunky - usually the case when these cuts are taken. Two considerations however remain. How does Johan Botha plan on sustaining Tannhauser, as announced, when this signature role is never abridged toward relieving strain of having to sing it? On the upside, however, Bychkov revealed the impetus behind the dark side of Lohengrin very well, while even having to make undesirable cuts, but also still maintaining sense of Lohengrin being a ‘zauberoper’ - written in close advent of starting work on the Ring.

There could longer no doubt by end of this how much Bychkov loves this music; his interview comments for BBC were alternatively witty and very sincere. Here is a musician I have always found enigmatic, but still with definitely some fine qualities for working in opera. The opening chords of the Prelude to Act One made one case in point - the sense of not quite being an entirely clear beat for the chords to come in quite one hundred percent together; once same music recurred later in the opera, there was little mistaking how together everything was. A little wearing the heart on the sleeve led to some clotting of textures in ensembles during finales to both the first two acts, but ensemble therein was still sufficiently cohesive to convey fine, fully engaging sense of excitement.

Bychkov’s support for singers, his ear for color and balances from the Royal Opera orchestra was definitely remarkable, especially through practically entire stretch of Act Three. Exchange between Herald and knights in scene that often drags things was visceral, with fantastic entries achieved for the Royal Opera chorus - with it still ringing in my ears the racket this group made under Albrecht for Dutchman a month ago. There was though still something about choral work that sounded beyond what any visitor can fix – wobbly sopranos during bridal chorus and unsteady tenors as well. Time presses then to call for some housecleaning and perhaps for change of leadership for the ROH chorus. This company, after all, has been led before by Colin Davis, Haitink, Solti; it at least should want to continue its strong international reputation.

Orchestral work here further evinced Bychkov in control of his forces – to a very nearly full extent. Pacing was consistently excellent, moving forward, with space provided to for beautifully shape lyrical lines that infuse so very much of Lohengrin. Contrast between sound worlds was also very clear – between that representing the ancient paganism of Ortrud and Telramund and that of still nascent flowering medieval spirit of the time of action. Coloring to a highly chromatic sequence of harmonies – hushed choral reaction to what the two pagans have stirred up – momentarily had one think ahead to Parsifal, even to Scriabin.

The sense of words being best guide to pacing Wagner, as Bychkov stated in interview, was constantly present, and within such sense of a leap to through-composed means being made that much of Lohengrin conveys. With strings down to double pianissimo at one place in the Grail narrative, line still electrically persisted through them. Solo clarinet reminiscence of the joy of the initial moments of marital bliss, according to all both logic and feeling invested therein, was heart-rending, devastating. Should we hear more from Bychkov at Royal Opera? While probably the finest work I have yet heard from him anywhere, the answer should be clear.